


Like This For Two Weeks Now

by luxover



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-10
Updated: 2012-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-29 07:53:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/317551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxover/pseuds/luxover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s smiling still, and Javi feels like such an idiot for it, because he’s known Fernando for ages, and known him like this for two weeks now, but it still makes him want to kiss Fernando, want to tug his hair or slip his hands up underneath Fernando’s shirt, just because he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like This For Two Weeks Now

Fernando takes him to a street fair.

“What are we doing here?” Javi finally asks, because there are a lot of people and a lot of loud music, and considerably less nudity than he had been hoping for when Fernando asked if he wanted to spend the holidays together.

“I don’t know,” Fernando says, and he turns back to look at Javi. His hair is getting long, curling behind his ears, and he’s got the collar of his jacket turned up against the cold. “Buying gifts, maybe. I used to go to these things all the time as a kid.”

“I still go to these things all the time,” Javi says, and he shrugs. It’s true; when he thinks he can get away with it, he’ll wander whatever street fair is going on and eat chorizo, albondigas, and almond cake until he feels so full that one of the trainers is bound to notice. He almost got in trouble for it, too, because he took Iker with him once, and Iker ate too much sugar and threw up on the pitch the next day.

“I’m not surprised,” Fernando says, and it takes a second for Javi to realize that Fernando wasn’t thinking about Iker, too. Javi watches as his smile starts small before it grows bigger and bigger until it almost takes up his whole face, and he starts laughing. Javi almost can’t hear it, not over the music and the crowd, but it’s cold enough that he can see Fernando’s breath in the air, lit up by the streetlamps, and he likes that, even though Fernando’s probably making fun of him.

“What?” Javi asks, and when Fernando doesn’t answer, he knocks their shoulders together and asks again, “What?”

“Nothing,” Fernando says, and he might say something else after that, Javi doesn’t know; the crowd comes between them and for a minute, Fernando’s gone, out of Javi’s sight like he was never there to begin with.

Javi thinks that would suck, life without Fernando.

The crowd shifts again, and then there he is, Fernando with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket and his shoulders up by his ears, trying to keep warm. He’s smiling still, and Javi feels like such an idiot for it, because he’s known Fernando for ages, and known him like  _this_  for two weeks now, but it still makes him want to kiss Fernando, want to tug his hair or slip his hands up underneath Fernando’s shirt, just because he can.

“There you are,” Fernando says. “I thought I lost you.”

And Javi doesn’t really know what to say except for,  _The sex is so good that you’re stuck with me forever,_  and,  _You won’t lose me unless you want to because I think I might really like you,_  and,  _No, seriously, you are so much better at sex than I am, and that’s kind of unfair for you, but I don’t mind,_  and so he chooses to play it safe and just says, “You forgot your scarf.” Which, after the fact, isn’t all that much better because he sounds pretty stupid.

“I know,” Fernando says, and he pulls a face.

“It’s supposed to snow tonight, too,” Javi says, and he doesn’t even know why he’s still talking.

“No, it’s not,” Fernando says, but he looks up at the sky as he says it. “I don’t have a scarf. Don’t say that.” He laughs again and it makes Javi want to laugh, too, and when someone bumps into Fernando and causes him to lose his footing, Javi reaches out to steady him, one hand around Fernando’s arm.

“You’re right,” Javi says. “Besides, I mean, like—we usually just get sleet here, anyways. So close to the coast and all…” He trails off. He really doesn’t know what’s wrong with him, or why he’s allowed out in public, with real people.

Fernando just laughs, though, and says, “Stop talking,” and Javi does.

They walk a little bit farther down the street, and Javi ends up in front, pushing through the crowd with Fernando following close behind, close enough that whenever Javi has to slow down, Fernando almost bumps into him. It makes Javi feel like they’re sneaking around, which like— even though no one really knows about them, they’re not  _sneaking._  Then they pass a chorizo stand, and Javi stops thinking about sneaking and starts thinking about food.

“What if I buy a painting?” Fernando asks, and it snaps Javi out of his thoughts.

“What, like for your apartment?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Fernando says. He jerks his head over to the left, to a stall selling paintings of Spanish landmarks, and he says, “Come on.”

Javi follows him over. To be honest, he doesn’t really understand the allure of paintings like the ones that Fernando’s looking at, Alvila Castle and Doña Casilda Park and stuff like that. If he wanted to see it, why not go  _see_  it? It’s not like they don’t have the money.

Fernando bends over to take a closer look at a painting of gardens and some statue of a naked woman, and for a second Javi wants to make fun of him for being so interested in stone breasts, but instead takes the chance to look at Fernando’s ass; he looks good in jeans.

“You know,” Fernando says, and Javi snaps his eyes up to Fernando’s face. “This isn’t far from my parents’ house in Rincón de Soto.” He points to a painting of the Rioja wine region, nothing but green hills taking up the canvas.

“That explains why you like wine so much, I guess,” Javi says, and Fernando laughs.

“Yeah, I guess I didn’t really have a choice,” he says, and then he nods, thanks the artist as they walk away.

“Didn’t want anything?” Javi asks.

“Nah,” Fernando says, and then, as if he was telling Javi a secret, he leans in and says, “I was looking at those paintings and all I could think was, I kind of just like the framed football shirts that are on my walls better.”

Javi laughs.

They keep walking and it’s pretty much just the same things, over and over again, but it’s nice, not worrying about having practice the next day or anything. After a few minutes, Fernando tugs at the back of Javi’s jacket, and Javi turns around, knocks into someone next to him and has to apologize. Then, to Fernando, he says, “What?”

“Hey, I’ll be right back, alright?” Fernando says, rubbing his bare hands together for warmth.

Javi nods because he’s supposed to, and then watches as Fernando ducks away and gets swallowed by the crowd. Javi steps off to the side, between two stands, and just kind of loiters, pretends to be looking around even though he isn’t; he’s got no interest in buying incense or jewelry or whatever, and although he  _does_  want some mantecados, he figures he should probably wait for Fernando.

There’s a stall a bit down the way selling hand-knit gloves and hats, and Javi thinks that maybe he should go see if they have scarves, too. Or maybe not, he thinks, because he’d never have done that for Fernando before, and so it’s just weird to think about doing it now. Or maybe you’re supposed to start doing those things when you start sleeping with one of your best friends, Javi doesn’t know. He’s not really good at this sort of thing, but Fernando knew that going into it.

Fernando comes back a few minutes later, and when he does, he’s smiling like crazy and carrying a white paper bag. He pushes his hair back off of his forehead, but it just flops back into place, and Javi wants to make jokes about getting a haircut.

“Guess what I just bought?” Fernando asks, and he waves the bag in front of Javi.

“I don’t know,” Javi says. And then just because he was thinking of them earlier, “Mantecados?”

“Nope,” Fernando says. “Turrones. One Jinona, one Alicante.”

And Javi thinks—Javi thinks fuck, maybe he should’ve gotten that scarf, because he loves turrones, thinks they’re the best part of the holidays, and Fernando bought enough to share.

“You know, I love turrones,” Javi says.

“I know,” Fernando says, and he smiles, laughs a little. When the woman running the jewelry stand offers to give them a good price on something for their girlfriends, Fernando tells her, “No thanks,” even though he looks at Javi the entire time. The woman walks away to the other side of her stand and Fernando just shrugs, jokes, “Unless you want something?”

“No,” Javi says, and he shakes his head. “But I would put out for some turrón.” And then he realizes what he just said. The crazy part was that he wasn’t even saying it to be sexy or anything; he genuinely meant it.

Fernando laughs, a loud bark of laughter that’s got him throwing his head back, and he says, “Yeah? Maybe I should remember that, then, for future reference.”

“Yeah, maybe you should,” Javi says.

They turn around after that, and split the turrones on the walk back to the car. Javi shoves all of his in his mouth and then steals half of Fernando’s, but Fernando doesn’t really seem to mind, and Javi likes that.

“You’re a great guy,” he jokes, his mouth still full.

Fernando rolls his eyes a little and, looking pointedly at Javi, he says, “Well, look at my competition.”

Javi has to take a second to chew and swallow before he can retort, but when he can, he says, “Hey, you  _like_  looking at your competition.” The statement kind of loses its impact when he stumbles over his own feet a few meters away from the car, but that’s how things go and Javi’s used to it. He straightens himself up, and when he does, he turns to Fernando, ready to say something self-depreciatingly funny; Fernando’s looking at him, his head tilted to the side and his face serious.

“What?” Javi says. He’s a little defensive, maybe.

“I do,” Fernando says, and then he smiles a little bit, nice and small, and Javi’s never seen Fernando blush in his life, but he thinks that maybe if it wasn’t so dark out already, he’d see Fernando’s cheeks looking pink. “Like looking at you, I mean,” Fernando adds.

“Oh,” Javi says. He doesn’t know what to say to that because Fernando’s the good-looking one of them; Javi’s just the gangly one who made the mistake of thinking he could actually look decent in underwear ads, and so he doesn’t really say anything else, just heads to his side of the car.

“Yeah,” Fernando says, and he goes to unlock the driver’s side door, but then pauses, looks at Javi over the roof of the car. He smiles lopsidedly. “So it’s a good thing I bought those turrones, huh? ‘Cause you owe me, now.”

Javi doesn’t know what to say; he never had any practice with this kind of stuff, with flirting or whatever, and so he just says, “Shut up,” and climbs in the car.

Fernando climbs in after him and starts the engine, and when he does, music blasts from the speakers; he automatically reaches out to lower it, and Javi thinks it’s weird, how much louder music always seems at night; he doesn’t really know why that is.

They pull out of the parking lot and turn down one of the main roads on the drive back to his place; Javi takes the time to look at Fernando, at how he sits in the driver’s seat, one hand on the wheel and the other dangling over the edge of the center console, and at how headlights reflect off his eyes in the darkness. He looks at Fernando, and it’s just—he’s perfect, or as close as Javi’s ever known anyone to be, his hair and his smile and the way he sings along to commercials, and the way he likes Javi—especially the way he likes Javi, like there’s no one else, like he doesn’t  _want_  there to be anyone else, like Javi checks off every box on every list Fernando’s ever made, even though Javi’s teeth are too big and his eyes are too close together and he always leaves his shower towel on the floor—and Javi thinks maybe that says something about him, and about Fernando, only he’s not sure what and figures that it doesn’t even really matter, anyways.

Fernando looks at him then, out of the corner of his eye.

“You know, I was serious,” he says, but Javi can tell that he’s fighting back a smile. “I mean, I gave you some of my turrones, so…”

Javi, for reasons that he will never quite understand, figures this would be the perfect time to say something sexy, to really set the mood and impress Fernando with how dirty he can be, because it’s looking like they’re leading towards a night full of sex, and that’s exactly what Javi wants. And so he says, “Baby, I’m gonna rock your world.” He hates himself the moment the words are out of his mouth.

Fernando just blinks for a second like he almost can’t believe what he had heard, and then he bursts out laughing, his entire posture changing as laugh lines cover his face.

“Oh my god,” Javi groans to himself; he knows he’s not good at this stuff, and he has no clue why he ever thought it would be a good idea to open his mouth. Fernando might as well just break up with him now because at the rate he’s going, he’ll be dead from humiliation by the time they reach the one-month mark. He hunches over where he is and hides his face in his knees, moaning to himself.

Fernando reaches out and rubs his back, back and forth across Javi’s spine.

“No, come on, that was—” Fernando says. “I’d like that.”

Javi turns his head and looks at Fernando; his face is red and he’s biting his lip, breathing erratically as he tries to hold back his laughter. Javi can’t help but laugh a little, too, a bit at himself and a bit at Fernando and how he’s dealing with Javi’s complete inability to be sexy. That sets Fernando off again, though, and he’s laughing loud, working hard to keep his eyes trained on the road as he fights for air.

Javi uses his elbow to knock Fernando’s from where it’s resting on the center console.

“Shut up,” he says, because he  _is;_  he’s gonna rock Fernando’s world, and they’ll see who’s laughing then.


End file.
